Split
by Hope Shalott
Summary: Sam takes Leah and runs. Broken imprints, broken hearts, broken dreams and two werewolves on the road, trying to find each other again.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this.

**Long A/N:** Okay, I'm a little nervous about this one because it's not really my style, in regards to multi chapter fics. The writing is more like my one shots, which are one shots for a reason. This is the first time I've written a multi chapter fic in this style, so I would appreciate your honest opinions of whether this works or not.

I've already written most of this story, so let me know how you'd like me to update it. One chapter a week? A day?

**Split**

She sits back in her seat, closing her eyes as the wind whips her hair around her face. The thick pollution that had settled on her tongue two states ago, has long been washed away by fresh, country air. The heaviness in her stomach has lifted, too. She feels younger, stronger and lighter. A whole shade away from Leah and more like the girl she used to be. For the first time in a long time, she's happy.

Sam isn't thinking about the air, or the fact that he's deliriously happy. His mind is back in La Push. He feels guilty for a moment as he ponders the mess he's left behind. A pack with no leader and Emily crying to anyone who will listen. He feels a stab of guilt as he imagines her torn face marred by tears. His mother will be upset, perhaps ashamed, of her boy. She had tried so hard to teach him, to instil in him, a respect for women and their feelings in hope that he wouldn't turn out like his father. He's let her down and at the same time he hasn't. He never left his girl, not really.

"Can we stop soon?" Leah asks, stretching muscles in her leg. Her skin is velvet on steel and he never realised how much he's missed it.

"We're only a few miles from Texas. We'll stop there," he answers, still watching as she limbers up.

"Okay," she says and she leans back with a grin on her face as she basks in the warmth of the sun.

They sit in silence until they reach Texas. The fields they pass are bare and barren but both can see a beauty in their emptiness. Sam's stomach drops as he wonders if he'll ever be able to make things right between them. She beaten and broken and it's his fault. There's no quick fix for the pain she feels. And as much as it hurts to admit it, he knows she'll never really be his again. Not like she used to be. She's a force of nature now. A fire storm blazing through everything that gets in the way and only a fool would try to hold onto her. But Sam Uley is nothing if he's not stubborn and determined, so he'll try anyway.

Another road sign passes and he can't help the weary sigh that escapes from his lips. He's on a journey in more ways than one and he still has no idea where he's going or if he'll ever get there.

But he's got his girl by his side and fresh air in his lungs and there's not a soul in sight. They might just make it after all.

* * *


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this story.

**A/N:** The chapters are generally going to be as long as they need to be in this story. It depends what happens and when it happens, but I'll try not to make them ridiculously uneven.

**Chapter One**

He's running patrol when the earth moves. Not literally but he can almost feel it shift beneath his feet anyway. One deep breath in, and a switch has been flicked in his brain. He imagines, for a moment, long brown legs and sleek black hair and he sees what could have been. The thought would haunt him for two more months before he chooses to act upon it.

His solitude is broken by the sound of soft paws padding upon the ground. He knows who it is. The sweet, earthy smell fills his nostrils and swirls through his brain like warm vanilla. Only her mind is bitter and only her words are sharp. As a wolf, she is soft and sweet, the spring breeze carrying her presence over on the wind. As a wolf, he imagines his pups in her belly.

_He wonders if Jacob feels the same way. _

He runs in her direction. The ground they meet on is neutral turf but from her expression, he knows he's not welcome on it. She snorts at him, not bothering to raise her hackles because she knows he's not a threat. Even after the imprint he could never hurt her. Not unless he had to for Emily. He could rip her apart himself for Emily and the thought of hurting Leah that way makes him want to throw up the deer flesh he's just ate.

_Can you hear me, Leah? _He asks. She probably can't but it's worth a try anyway. Her expression doesn't flicker. Big brown eyes set in soft grey fur demand an explanation from him. What the hell does he want?

He thinks about it for a moment and his answer is unsettling. He wants to see her again. It's been a while since she left him for Jacob and he's missed having her around. He pulls up an image of her in human form. A bronzed statue holding all its flaws on the inside. Pure, naked beauty. He wonders where her clothes are.

He tilts his head in a silent gesture for her to phase because they can't speak as wolves anymore. A while ago, he wished that there was some way to get her out of his head. Now she's gone and there's an emptiness inside his mind. A gaping hole that even seven werewolves and their mindless chatter can't fill.

She lets out a soft growl, more from inconvenience than anger and trots off behind a bush. He phases where he stands, pulling his shorts from around his ankle.

"What the hell do you want?" She asks, sauntering back into view. Her hair is longer, past her shoulders but her face is still twisted in the same sneer that she reserves for people who are less than. Inferior to her. Time was when he would never have made that list. Now he's becoming nothing more than a fading ache or a healing wound. He's the loser ex boyfriend that she mocks to her friends. She's forgetting about him, her Sam, and pain engulfs him with that realization.

He shrugs it off. "Just to talk. I've been worried about you."

"We're fine," she says haughtily and then her face shifts into a twisted smile. "I'm fine. My _Alpha_ is taking good care of me."

Her words are bitter and teasing. She can't know how much they hurt him. Jacob might have imprinted but he and Leah are closer than they've ever been. She's his second in command, his Beta and even through the imprint he must see the beauty his General holds.

"I'm sure he is," he mutters bitterly and her face lights up. Jacob Black challenged his authority and won. He's taken half his pack and his pride. His renegade pack is a stark reminder that Sam is Alpha only by default. If anyone is strong enough to fight for Leah, he thinks it could be Jacob. But then, he's had fair warning of how quickly and completely the imprint takes over.

Leah sighs and kicks at a rock. "Are you done?" She's standing west of him and the sun is playing, red and orange, across her face and turning her white summer dress gold. She looks like an angel.

When he doesn't answer, she turns to walk away. He moves forward automatically. "Leah," She stops and waits for him to say something.

"Will you just...will you call sometime? Just so I know you're okay."

After a moments hesitation, she speaks. "No. Don't worry about me Sam. As long as I stay away fro m the people who hurt me, I'll be okay."

He swallows down a sharp sense of loss and goes home to his imprint.

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Not me. I am not making any money of this story.

**A/N**: I was gonna put it up, like a chapter a day, or whatever but since the chapters are only short, I'll post a few more until I'm bored of it :-)

**Chapter Two**

"Hey baby, I was beginning to think you were never coming home."

Home is a tiny little house on the reservation. Emily has done her best to patch it up. There are daffodils, freshly planted in the flowerbed, and a vase of white roses on the kitchen table. He can smell muffins baking in the oven. All he ever seems to eat are muffins and pancakes but he'll enjoy them because Emily has made them.

He plants a kiss on her forehead but she tilts her face to meet his. Their kiss is sweet and chaste. He moves his mouth against hers automatically. He knows what she likes and he kisses her the

way she wants to be kissed. What he wants has never mattered. So when he breaks the kiss, it's a surprise to both of them.

"Are you okay, honey?" Her expression is open and welcoming, so far away from Leah's, but both are a product of his actions. He's given Emily everything and so she views the world with a childlike innocence. He's taken everything from Leah and now she can see nothing good. Emily's eyes are warm and comforting, Leah glares from behind a sheet of ice. Why does he feel so much better when a chill creeps up his spine?

He nods, trailing his fingers down her ruined face. She's the second woman he's wounded, only Leah wears her scars on the inside. The concern hasn't faded from Emily's eyes. She knows him as well as he knows her and she can see that something is wrong.

She smiles up at him. Her hands move around his neck and she smooths her fingers over tense muscle. It helps. It always does. She knows all the ways to make him feel better, and she's grinning mischievously at him, leading him to the bedroom they share.

He would like to stay in this moment forever. It's easy, familiar simplicity. Poppers instead of fireworks. It's safe and he knows how it going to play out. He'll never be like his father, running out on his marriage, leaving his kids. He doesn't even have the option of failing. He can't go wrong, really.

"Sam,"

Emily's voice is both an awakening and a distraction. If he thought about it long enough, he'd realise that he's not in the mood, but his Emily is beckoning him, with an outstretched arm and a coy smile. Her face is so full of love and desire, that he moves towards her automatically.

He knows her so well that he doesn't really have to think about how to please her. Every move he makes is the right one, every word he says is the one she wants to hear. He's taken his solace in her so many times before but in his gut he knows it's different. It's changed. Her arms, once comforting, are restrictive and her words seem hollow. There's a distance between them and he doesn't know how it happened.

They're both still panting, minutes after it is over. Her hands are roaming across his back and she pulls him closer to her. She wants him all, every inch of him, he thinks, not without bitterness but one look at her face and it all fades. He sees the scars, he can't help but see them, but they fade and merge into smooth skin. The stark red makes her eyes seem browner. He can see the beauty in them, even when the story behind them breaks his heart.

She is his and he is hers. That is how it was always mean to be. She wants him and she needs him and nothing else will ever matter.

Besides, this is only the third time that he's seen someone else's face.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making a penny off this fic.

**Chapter Three**

It's twelve o'clock on a Sunday afternoon. Seth is out with his friends and Sue is halfway through her shift at the hospital. Sam is kissing Leah.

He didn't mean for this to happen, he just wanted to check that she was okay,_ and see her, _but now his lips are on hers and he's pushing her back against her bedroom wall. He doesn't know how it happened, or why he's doing _this_, all he knows is that he never wants to stop.

He pulls away, breathless with delight, and runs his lips over her throat. She moans into his neck and the breath of air send shivers up his spine. It feels so good to be holding her and how could he have ever thought he belonged anywhere but in her arms?

"Leah," he breathes. She doesn't reply, her lips still working the hollow of his throat.

"Leah, I'm sorry," his voice is thick with emotion and lust, and the tears that are threatening to spill onto bronze skin. "I'm sorry. I love you, Lee Lee. I'll never leave you again," he pants. And then he whispers, because he's half afraid she might hear him. "I promise."

She stops, her muscles freezing as though she's just been drenched with ice cold water. She tries to pull away from him but he can't let her go. His lips find hers again. He has to show her, his words mean nothing to her. They are empty, merging with memories of each and every promise broken, but he has to try and make her see. She lets out a whimper as his hands grip her wrists and tries to turn her head. He keeps on kissing her, his mouth finding hers no matter which way she turns. It's only when she pushes him backwards with all her strength that he realises he's crossed the line.

"So what are you gonna do now? Huh? Are you gonna pin me down, force me to have sex with you so you can pretend you're not a limp dick coward anymore? Go ahead," she taunts, pushing him again." Make me endure your disgusting body on top of me. Like I had to endure every single thought of her and how much you didn't love me anymore."

Sam doesn't speak but his face is heavy with shame.

"_What do you want from me_?" Leah screams. She's furious now. Her face but an inch away from his and he can see rage blazing in her beautiful eyes. He wants what he's always wanted, even when he wasn't allowed to remember he wanted it. He wants her. He smiles slightly as he thinks about how much lighter he feels now that he can address his own desires but Leah thinks he's mocking her. Her fist has connected with his face before he even sees her move and her eyes are burning through him with the same disgust she reserves for those whose existence she despises. He begins to cry, tears thick in his throat as he hides his face behind his hands.

Leah sighs and moves to stand. She leans against the wall, hip cocked, arms folded, and studies the weeping man before her. Her face shows none of the rage that possessed her a moment ago. Now she looks calm and satisfied, a cool glee settled across her features. He's broken now, just like she was.

When she's had enough of her revenge, or should that be justification, she unfolds her arms and looks around awkwardly. He's still crying, thick salty tears streaming down his face and he wants her to hold him, tell him it's okay, show him the comfort that he denied her when he tore her heart out.

"You can't just expect everything to be okay," she mutters, almost apologetically. "You destroyed me. You can't fix it with a few kisses and a good lay."

With one last, lingering look, she leaves. Her face is rife with pity. He hates himself more now he feels the pain he caused her.

* * *


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm not making any money off this fic.

**Chapter Four**

It's not even morning when he drags her out of her bed. He's left Emily sleeping, content in the knowledge that he'll be beside her when she wakes up. He throws her clothes in a bag. She's still dazed from sleep. Her hair is a rumpled mess which he smooths down gently.

"What's going on?"

He stops for a moment and braces himself for a backlash against his next words. "I need you to trust me Lee Lee."

The fury doesn't come. Instead, she grits her teeth and rolls her eyes. "I told you to stop calling me that."

He ignores her and resumes packing. He racks his brains for the right words to say, the words that will make her see how much he needs this. He settles for the truth. "It's still there. I'm trying to fight it but the imprint is still there. I need to get away and I need you to come with me."

"What the--? If you think I'm going anywhere with you then you are officially nuts. Put down my panties." She snaps. Her voice is a low hiss, careful not to wake her mother. Seth is having an all night Halo marathon with Embry, Jake and Quil over at the Black's house. Sue doesn't know.

"Leah, please. We need to go now."

She snatches her underwear from his hands and stuffs it back into the drawer. He takes it out again.

"Why can't you just go alone?" She asks as he frantically starts on her wardrobe.

He's silent for a moment. Her hair is shining in the moonlight. Her beauty calms him and he takes a deep breath. "Because when I see you, I remember why I'm fighting it."

She doesn't speak for a while. A thousand emotions flicker across her face. He winces as he sees pain and mistrust.

When she looks up at him, she's both wary and hopeful. "I'll need to leave a note for my mom," she whispers.

* * *

It's nightfall by the time they reach Wyoming. Sam is staring at the road ahead, his jaw set. He's thinking about Emily. It should be her sitting next to him and what the hell was he thinking leaving her like that? It takes three long glances at the girl sleeping next to him before Emily fades to the back of his mind.

Leah looks peaceful. So young and beautiful with that familiar sneer smoothed from her face. The street lights flicker across her features, ambient golds and oranges that highlight every contour of soft brown skin. She's his sleeping angel, born of the earth, and the only one who has a hope of saving him from his destiny.

He had memorised the image of her standing in the sun, pulling it to the front of his mind whenever his resolve began to waver. She looked so young and innocent, like the girl he used to love so deeply. Now he has a new picture to focus on.

She stirs in the face of a particularly bright light and murmurs his name. Pulling herself up with a groan, she takes in her surroundings.

"Where are we?"

Her voice holds no trace of her usual confident arrogance. It reflects her expression, still young and peaceful and slightly dazed from sleep. He drinks it filing away an image free of bitterness. Big brown eyes are wide and open and her cheeks are flushed. It is everything he is fighting for.

In the blink of an eye, it is gone. Her eyes narrow slightly and her mouth curves downwards in a stubborn pout, as though she has remembered that she is no longer his Leah, but her own.

"Wyoming. Guy at the gas station said there's a cheap motel around here somewhere."

"Good. I'm tired," she yawns.

"You've only just woke up."

She rolls her eyes and dismisses him with a wave. "That wasn't a proper sleep. It's not a proper sleep if you're not lying down."

Her logic is flawed and childish but it fills him with hope. She had been little more than a child when he had fallen madly in love with her, so young when she gave him everything she had. Too young when he broke her heart, her faith and her trust. His girl is still in there somewhere, behind the stone mask.

He knows it's true. Because it hurts too much to believe anything else.

* * *


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this story.

**A/N:** Wow. Thanks for all your feedback. I'm so glad you're enjoying it:-)

**Chapter Five**

"Wow. This is heavenly, Sam. Really. Who needs flowers and candles when you can have the stink of death and--whatever that is."

The motel is typical. Leah is pointing to a suspicious stain on a dulled, threadbare carpet. Her face is twisted in a grimace as she tries not to inhale. There is little furniture in the room. A bed, a television and a bedside table. The thick stink of sex and drugs makes a mockery of the bible placed on top of it. There's also a telephone, that might or might not work.

His dumps his bag, a rucksack stuffed with whatever clothes would fit, on the floor next to the bed. "I didn't exactly have time to book the Ritz."

"Obviously."

"I'll---," He bites his tongue before he promises he'll take her somewhere nice, _next time._ The words would be so easy to say with the way he feels right now, it's sticking to them that will prove harder. Neither knows how this will turn out. She bites her lip and studies the floor. He knows she's heard the words, anyway.

He can't promise he'll love her tomorrow, no matter how much he might want to today.

She shrugs it off because that's how she deals with things. Pretend it didn't happen and when that fails, pretend it doesn't matter anyway. His heart breaks and he is about to take her in his arms and tell her everything she wants to hear, but she's moving to the door.

"I'm going to see if I can get us something to eat. Don't wait up," she smirks. Her eyes are clear and mocking, free of the pain and despair from just a moment ago. He likes to think she's faking it because his heart is still constricting in his chest, but he's not entirely sure. He doesn't really know her anymore.

The telephone catches his eye, and he's holding the receiver before he even knows why. It rings only twice before someone picks up.

The voice on the other end is desperate and raw. "Hello?"

"Emily," he whispers.

She dissolves into tears at the sound of his voice. "Sam? Where are you? What's going on?"

She bombards him with questions, and he can't answer even one. The simple fact is that he doesn't know. He knows where he is, but not how he got there, and he'll be damned if he knows what the hell is going on. "I don't--,"

He can smell Leah. She's standing outside the door, in an effort to give him some privacy. He opens it and gestures for her to come in. She can hear both sides of the conversation, anyway, even if she'd rather not. She drops onto the bed and not a flicker of emotion crosses her face.

Emily is sobbing on the other end of the line. If there was any possible way to reach through and hold her, he would find it.

"Sam. Please just come home. It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. I'll help you."

That's the problem. The word home and the images it inspires fill him with both dread and longing and he can't figure out which emotion is his, and which belongs to destiny."I can't come home,"

Leah winces at the word.

"Not yet. I have to figure some stuff out,"

"Figure what out? It's so simple. I love you and you love me. We belong together."

He can't protest because it's true. She's his perfect fit, his missing piece. So why does he feel so hollow and empty? Emily takes a deep breath and he can just picture her. She's pulling her shoulders back, like she always does when she's trying to gain her composure.

"Leah's gone missing." There's an accusation in her tone. He can't breathe for a second.

"Em---,"

She cuts him off, her desperate concern turning to desperate anger. "I want to talk to Leah. Is she with you?"

Leah is crying now, her cousin's pain and worry inspiring more emotion in her than his ever could. She shakes her head, furiously, tears sliding down her cheeks. She wants him to lie to Emily, but he can't do that.

"Leah's with me," he says, ignoring her shame and the way she hangs her head. ",but she's not here right now."

"Leah!," Emily starts yelling. She knows that, if Leah is in the room, she'll hear her regardless of whether Sam hands over the phone. "Leah, please don't do this to me. I love him, I need him. Just co---,"

He doesn't let her finish before he hangs up. Leah's nerve is faltering, he can see the guilt etched on her face, mixed with traces of anger at her cousin's words. Probably because she had once uttered them herself. She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand and her eyes flicker to the door. It's only for a split second but it fills him with horror. He won't sleep tonight.

* * *


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this story.

**A/N:** Big clap for anyone who knows what song the lyric comes from.

**Chapter Six**

"Cause it was us, baby, way before them, and we're still to---,"

He laughs as she trails off. She's coughing, trying to spit up the bug that's just flown down her throat.

"That's what you get for singing at 100 miles an hour."

He's holding his stomach as she's glaring at him. She hates being laughed at, she always has. He used to smile at her for no reason, a sly, shifty grin, and she would be checking her hair, her breath, her clothes, while he would chuckle to himself, knowing that at the end of it all, she would melt into his arms with an exaggerated pout on her face and half smile threatening to break through. He would assure her that she was the most perfect creature in existence and then he would promise not to tease her anymore. He never kept that promise either.

"At least I can sing. You sound like a cat being strangled...in the shower."

He's still laughing because she's still glaring. She throws him a soul withering look and takes out her compact. She spends at least half an hour, pouting and preening before she sits back with a satisfied smirk. Her face is bare of make up but she looks impressed by what she sees. His girl never had much modesty either.

* * *

"I talked to Jake last night."

He stops chewing. He has a lump in his throat that has nothing to do with food. They are in the most humdrum diner, in the most humdrum town and he's quite certain that the place hasn't seen a lick of paint since the seventies.

"How?" The motel doesn't have a phone and she hadn't left the room last night.

She snorts and eats a fry. "Urm-- in our heads. We can do that, remember?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."

"It was a few nights ago, when I went for my run." She's pretending he hasn't spoken, like she always does when she doesn't like the direction the conversation is going. "He just popped up. Wanted to know what was going on, when I'm coming home. Usual boring shit. Didn't have any juicy gossip either."

"What did you tell him?" He doesn't know why he's so angry.

She shrugs. "That I didn't know what was going on and that I'll be home soon."

"And that's_ all_ that happened?"

Her hand stalls on the food. He didn't mean to snap at her and he feels worse because she obviously wasn't expecting it. "No. We had telepathic wolf sex." The couple one table over looks at her with wary fascination and confusion. She's too busy glaring at him to notice.

"Sorry," he mutters and she gives him one long, warning glare before she sighs and sits back in her seat.

"I'm not fucking Jacob."

He nods and lets out a breath of relief. She grabs a handful of fries "Not anymore."

He is horrified, distraught. He might actually be dying. She looks at his face and giggles. "God, Sam. Lighten up. I'm only kidding. Jake and I are just friends."

He believes her but it does nothing to ease his despair. She's not fucking Jacob and that's good, but she could have been while he was busy playing house with Emily, and she still might if he's not strong enough to break the imprint. And if it's not Jacob, it will be someone else. He knows what men think when they look at her. He knows because he's one of them.

* * *

He spends the night watching her sleep. The only light in the room comes from a lamp that flickers on and off at random intervals. She looks warm and comfortable and he wants to crawl into the bed and curl up next to her. They haven't shared a bed for over a year and she's wary about starting again. He is too, but he's sure he isn't strong enough to resist the temptation. He doesn't know her reasons but he could probably guess.

He scares her. Not physically but in every other way that counts. He can't promise he will never hurt her, he can't promise that he will never leave her because he's already done both. He has to find another way to make her feel safe with him, to ease her fears.

But that is easier said than done. Just like keeping promises.

* * *


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this story.

**Chapter Seven**

"What's your favourite colour?"

She turns her face, squinting in the sun. She ponders his question for a moment, or perhaps she is wondering why he's asking. "Purple."

"I thought it was green?"

She turns her face to the sky. Clouds are drifting aimlessly above them. "You were wearing a green shirt when you told me you loved Emily. So now my favourite colour is purple."

Her voice is matter of fact, no trace of hurt, or any emotion really, but he feels a heavy swell of guilt in the pit of his stomach. It's so hard trying to make things right. There are reminders everywhere and the biggest one is laying next to him in the grass.

They are somewhere in Colorado and the day is hot. They are in a park, surrounded by laughing children and families with picnic baskets. They've extended their stay in Colorado by a few days because the weather is nice. Leah wanted to go somewhere more private, more to do with her antisocial behavioural issues than a longing desire to jump his bones, so it was quite easy to overrule her. He's trying to makes things how they used to be, or as close as he can, and they never had to skulk off into the woods to be close to each other before. The world just seemed to disappear around them.

A soccer ball lands perilously close to Leah's head. A young boy comes ambling over, stuttering an apology as he sees the huge man laying next to his unintended target. She glares at the kid but Sam can see a sadness in her eyes, a longing. He watches as the kid runs back to his friends, he can hear him bragging proudly about his brush with danger and the giant he's just met.

"They should lock them up. It's shit like this that makes me glad I can't breed."

Sam knows that's not true but he doesn't say anything. Denial of her own desires is her method of coping and he can't bring himself to take that away from her. He wants children. When he thinks of the future, he imagines tots running around his feet, his smile on a young boy's face. It's likely he'll never have either with Leah. He could have it all with Emily.

"Why are we even lying here anyway? I thought we were supposed to be having fun for the next few days."

Her voice snaps him out of his reverie and he feels ashamed of his thoughts. "This isn't fun?"

She snorts. "Yeah, lying here, doing nothing but getting smacked in the face by a soccer ball, that's my idea of fun. I do it all the time."

Her derision upsets him. It's not perfect, none of it is, but he's trying. "Well, what would you like to do?" He asks, barely restraining his anger.

She shrugs, hands behind her head as she studies the sky. "Dunno."

"No. You never do."

She upright in an instant. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He knows he shouldn't get angry. She won't be able to stop herself from snapping back, she's far too defensive for that, but he can't contain himself any longer. He's simply had enough. "It means that I'm working my ass off trying to make things right between us and all you can do is piss and moan."

"I think I have a right to 'piss and moan'," she mocks.

He's on his feet now, towering over her. He can see fury simmering behind brown eyes but he's long past caring. "No, you don't. Not anymore. Yeah, I fucked up. I'm sorry, but I'm here and I'm trying. None of it is fucking good enough for you."

She stands, shoulders back, and chin up. Her arms are tense and he can make out trembling muscle underneath her skin. He tries to drag her away, the last thing they need is her phasing in the middle of a packed park, but she resists him, shaking him off.

"You _break_ my heart,_ propose_ to my cousin, _drag _me out of my bed because you may or may not still love me and expect me to just fall into your arms? Fuck you, Sam."

He walks away from her because he refuses to do this in public. She follows him, shouting and cursing at him with each step. She hasn't stopped by the time they reach the motel and only one thought stays in his mind. Things were so much easier with Emily.

* * *


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer:** Characters don't belong to me. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. She makes bundles of money off them. I don't.

**A/N:** Yeah, I'm on a posting spree tonight, and this is a long (er) chapter.

**Chapter Eight**

Leah doesn't speak for the next two days but her anger seems to have faded. His resolve is breaking. He finds himself thinking of Emily more and more. He is half watching some old movie and half wondering how long it would take to get back to Washington.

The sound of running water cuts off and he can hear Leah pottering around in the bathroom. He barely notices when she walks into the room.

"What are you watching?" she asks but he knows she doesn't care.

"Some old movie." He shrugs and looks over his shoulder. Her hair is wet, hanging halfway down her back. He used to delight in it, running his fingers through it, nestling his face in it, and it was nothing short of a tragedy when she had to cut it. He's glad she's decided to let it grow, even if it does make things a little awkward for her when she's phased.

She nods, swallowing hard and turns her attention to the floor. "Can we talk?"

He wants to say no because she seems nervous and that is never good, but she hasn't spoken to him in two days, so he's glad to get a word out of her. "Okay."

He makes his way over to the bed, propping himself against the headboard while she curls up at the end. He waits patiently for her to speak but after five minutes he can't take it any longer. "Leah, what's this about?"

Her hands twist the corner of the duvet. "I'm sorry," she whispers and he knows why it was so hard for her to say. She's been playing the victim for too long but in her heart, she knows that she's the only one to blame for her actions. "You were right. I am making things difficult and I am being horrible but I'm not doing it on purpose, Sam."

He wants to hold her and tell her it's okay but he wont do it yet. She has more to say and there's more that he needs to hear.

"I'm afraid that this isn't going to work. What if we spend all this time together and nothing changes? You could think that it's worked but we might get back and it might be the same thing all over again."

He sighs. It's not the first time they've had this discussion and odds are that it will soon turn into an argument. "I'm trying, Leah. That's all I can do. But you have to try too, or it's never going to work. Sometimes I think you don't want it to." he adds, as an afterthought.

She ducks her head, and he realises with a pang of grief, and maybe relief, that some part of her doesn't. They are both silent for a long minute. His head is full of thoughts that he doesn't want to think about but can't ignore.

"What if I fall in love with you again?"

Her voice breaks at the last word and he can't stop himself from going to her. The words were said in a whisper as though she is afraid to consider the possibility. He rests her head against his chest and twines his fingers through her hair. His tears start only a second after hers. "I'm sorry. I wish things could be different between us. I wish I'd never phased, or met Emily. I wish it wasn't so hard."

So many wishes, hope dying with each one the moment he set eyes on his imprint. Maybe it's impossible to fight. He wants to break it so badly but since when did wanting something make it happen?

The desire to give up and give in is what makes him find Leah's lips with his own. He would never be stupid enough to try otherwise, especially not after what happened last time, but he's a desperate man and desperate men do stupid things.

He fully expects to be punched in the face when his lips settle on hers, he even braces himself for the blow, but it doesn't come. Before he knows it, her arms are around his neck and she's matching his urgency and ferocity with her own. He pulls her onto his lap, breaking every rule between them, and she shivers in his arms as she feels him against her.

It's not the same as it is with Emily. There is no rhythm just passion. They don't smooth into each other, they clash and pull, trying to feel every inch of skin, desperate to remember every touch and movement because tomorrow it might be over. Today they love each other and need each other but nobody knows better than them how quickly it can all change.

He pulls away because he knows she wont. It kills him to unwrap her arms from around his neck and to remove her body from his own. He has to imagine her crying and begging him not to leave again so he wont just pull her back to him.

"I'm going to beat this, Leah," It is as close to a promise as he'll allow himself to make, "but until I do, we're not going to this. I don't want to fuck you. I want to make love to you without anything else between us. I want it to be you."

So many things left unsaid, about Emily, about Leah and about the girl that doesn't exist anymore, but she understands exactly what he's saying and he knows it was worth it when he sees the grateful relief flood her eyes. Emily has faded to the back of his mind as quickly as she appeared.

* * *


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this, the only thing I own is my broken heart *sob. Song is End Of The World by Skeeter Davis. (you can find it on youtube if you don't know it)

**A/N:** This is gonna be the last update for the night.

**Chapter Nine**

They stop at a bar when they reach Texas because Leah doesn't think it's a proper road trip without downing whiskey and playing pool. He makes her promise that she wont start a brawl and puke on his shoes. She does, but only after he's listed all the reasons why it would be stupid and irresponsible.

Three hours later and they are still there. Leah is rambling on about nothing important and Sam is listening intently.

"---So, I walk in and Rosalie starts hissing at me, but I'm mad, so I'm like, shut the fuck up bitch, I don't care if she's dying.

It is still strange to hear her talk like this. Before phasing and imprints, Leah had been the kind of girl who made it her mission to save the world. She had sobbed in his arms after watching a documentary about starving children in third world countries, she spent hours typing up petitions to save one animal or another. She had been a devoted vegetarian, so devoted that he wouldn't eat a burger in front of her for six months when the first started dating because he was afraid she would dump him, but her transformation had changed all of that. Their nature doesn't allow them much compassion. Rabbits are food. There to be eaten, not cuddled. Idealism had given way to startling truth and Leah had found herself in a world where the only thing that mattered was survival.

He won't allow himself to feel guilty that he wasn't there to help her through it, because they are trying to move forward and there is no point in looking back.

She stops talking and rests her head on the table. She's drunk, having downed ten whiskey shots in under five minutes, but the effects wont last long. Her gaze will be clear and focused by the time she starts on the next. He runs his fingers through her hair and down over her neck, rubbing and kneading the soft skin. She moans and lifts her head slightly. The glazed look disappears and she sits up.

"No wonder Edward doesn't like you."

She snorts. "Fine by me. I don't like him either."

He laughs and grasps her hands. The sit in silence just staring into each others eyes, with an intensity that makes his heart stop. She's the most beautiful girl—woman, he's ever seen. Her gaze shifts and she's looking at him as if she's finally seeing him for the first time. She moves her hands and takes a swig of his beer. He's not looking at her when she speaks, he's sitting back in his chair, head tilted, with his eyes closed.

"I want to go home,"she says softly. He straightens up and wonders if she's still a little drunk. He knows she doesn't mean the motel.

She moves her glass back and forth with no real motive in mind. "I don't want to do this forever." _Not even for you_. He can hear the unspoken words behind each stabbing sentence.

"I'm tired of running away. If it's not over by now then it never will be" _I don't think you can win for me. _"I've been carrying this..weight around for too long. I need to move on."_ Without you._

He can't speak. It's been his biggest fear since he grabbed her and left, that he would fail. Now it's over. He can see it in her eyes. One of them has given up and it's not him. And he's not sure he can make it without her. Her love is the only thing that keeps him fighting.

She shrugs. "I just think that maybe it's time to go home and see what happens. We can't run forever, Sam."

He ignores her because he can run forever, he _will_ run forever if that's what it takes, but she's not prepared to do that anymore. Her gaze is soft, he can see pity in her eyes. Somehow, the world has been tipped upside down and she's sitting in his place. Her attempts at comforting him are as effective as his was to her.

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Her eyes are looking everywhere but at him. "I'm gonna go outside for a smoke. I need to get some fresh air."

He would laugh at the contradiction, if it didn't hurt so much. She's always been a bad liar, preferring to speak her mind straight out than act coy. She can't stand seeing him so upset and pathetic, so she leaves. It hurts most that he has no right to ask her to stay.

Couples are laughing around him, too caught up in each other to realise that it's all over for him. A smoky voice is singing in the background, about her lost love and the end of the world, and it's apt and fitting because his heart is dying in his chest.

* * *


	11. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. She's made millions off them. I haven't made one penny.

**A/N:** Okay, there's only (I think) one more chapter and an epilogue to go. Thanks for all your reviews. I was kinda nervous about this story so I'm glad to see that you're all enjoying it. (Especially since it's breaking my heart writing it *sob)

**Chapter Ten**

It takes him six hours to convince her to go as far as New Orleans with him, then he promises to take her home. He made up some rubbish about always wanting to visit the French Quarter but he's just grabbing every straw he can see.

His feelings haven't faded with the knowledge that hers have. They only burn brighter, stronger, because now he knows that there is a very strong possibility that he might lose her. He wont begin to consider that he might have already.

"I've called Jacob and told him we'll be home within the week. I don't even want to think about facing my mom yet." She's just walked back into the motel room and dropped onto the bed beside him.

"Please don't give up on me." He can't help the words, he knows they're out of place but he's too desperate to think of that.

"I'm not giving up, Sam. Honest. I'm just being rational about this. If you've beaten the imprint then, fine, we'll be together but running for the rest of lives isn't something we can do."

"Why not?" He knows he's pouting, he knows he gazing at her with complete, puppy dog adoration, and desperation, but there is little pride in love.

She laughs and snuggles into him. "Because we have a life. And whether we like it or not, that life involves werewolves and vampires and duty...and my mother, who'll probably hunt us down if we're not back within a few months."

He shivers at the thought of Sue Clearwater on a mission to get her daughter home. "Then why don't we take a few months? We could settle down somewhere, rent an apartment, get jobs."

"I'm ready to go back," she says firmly and he knows he can't win this argument. "I don't want to be a housewife, or live in some grotty place with a dead end job. Yeah, I know nobody has been anti werewolf as much as me, but this trip has made me realise how much I miss it. I miss running around and yelling at leeches. I miss the pack. I miss my brothers. Don't you?"

He nods. Of course he does. He misses his pack, he misses her pack. He misses his mother and he still misses Emily. But he knows he'll miss Leah more, and he'll never miss her as much as when she's standing in front of him on someone else's arm.

"Come on," she says, standing up and grabbing his duffel. "Help me put the bags in the car."

"What...all two of them?"

And suddenly they are laughing like they never stopped.

* * *

New Orleans is exactly the way he imagined it to be. Though it is still ravaged in places, from Hurricane Katrina, there is a vibrancy and light that he can't imagine ever being diminished.

He springs for the nicest hotel they can afford, because if it's their last moments together, he wants it to be special for her, something worth remembering.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

She's hanging her clothes in the wardrobe. They are few and far in between but they've been living out of bags for god knows how long so he lets her have her novelty.

She smiles and grabs her jacket. "Sure, lets go."

The amble along with no destination in mind. She holds his hand, like she used to do the first time they were together. To the world outside, they probably look like a normal couple, chatting happily and enjoying their time together. How could anyone realise the curse that's been thrust upon them? How could anyone understand what's at stake?

"I love this place. It's so cool."

He smiles at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, Emily always wanted to come here."

He curses the words, tries to grab them back before they reach her but to no avail. She lets go of his hand, practically pulling it from hers. They don't speak for a while. She is obviously hurting and he is cursing his own stupidity but she no longer falls into step beside him. She lags behind slightly and when he falls back, she moves forward. She wants to get away from him but she doesn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I'm sorry, Lee. I really am."

Her glare is a surprise to him because he's sure she knows that he didn't mean it. "You're always sorry. You're always sorry but nothing changes."

"What do you mean?"

She shakes her head, and walks away laughing bitterly. He runs to catch up to her. "You know I didn't mean it."

He almost runs into when she stops in her tracks. She's angry but he can see she's trying to keep it together. A swell of pride settles amongst horror and the overwhelming fear that they wont come back from this. "You really don't get it do you? You can't break it because you don't really want to."

He doesn't understand because he's never wanted anything more.

"The thought of being with me scares you. Hell, it _terrifies_ you because you won't have control anymore. With Emily, you know everything that's gonna happen. You know what to expect because it's all mapped out for you. You don't have to do anything but sit back and enjoy it."

He runs his hand over his face. He feels old, tired and weary. "Then why am I here, Leah? If it's so easy and wonderful, why am I here?"

"You're not," Her voice is soft and somber. There's a undernote of grief and realisation. "Because the Sam I knew, _my_ Sam, was never afraid to take chances. _He_ would have fought for me, he would have _won_ for me, but_ you_ took him over before he even knew what was happening. I can forgive you for destroying me, but I can't forgive you for destroying him."

He doesn't follow her when she walks away. It takes all his strength not to fall to the pavement.

* * *


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer any money off this story (but I really should get hazard pay or something because my poor heart is broken.)

**A/N:** Okay, so just the epilogue to go now. Thank you to everybody who read and reviewed.

**Chapter Eleven**

The trip back home is long. They speak in single words and muted conversations but there is no anger between them. Only nostalgia and a painful realisation that it is finally over. They take comfort in the knowledge that they tried.

"What are you gonna do?"

She shrugs. Hair is blowing behind her, around her, and there is the slightest hint of sheen across her nose where she's caught the sun. "Probably just what I always do, run patrols, piss Edward off, piss everybody off."

There is no bitterness in her voice, only peace and a hint of excitement. She knows where she belongs now and he envies her for that.

"How about you?"

He shrugs. It's not something he wants to think about but she smiles at him, reassuringly. "You'll go home to Emily. Yeah, you'll probably have to sleep on the couch for a few months, but she'll forgive you, and you'll get married...finally, and have lots of brats that I absolutely _refuse_ to babysit."

Her scenario, or perhaps the fact that he knows it's true, makes his stomach flip. He's not sure if it's due to excitement or something else entirely but he smiles and nods because he knows that is what she wants him to do.

"I think I'll get a job, go to college...maybe even get my own apartment." Her voice is wistful as she envisions the future ahead of her, a future that doesn't involve him.

"I was gonna take Yoga classes, to help with my temper, but maybe I'll take Kung Fu instead. I don't think I'd be too good at just sitting around."

"Like you aren't deadly enough without turning yourself into a lethal weapon." He laughs, imagining all the havoc she'll cause. She rolls her eyes but he can see a smirk blossoming on her face. They settle into silence. It is not uncomfortable but it's still not as easy as the one they have perfected over their trip. Leah is the first to break it.

"We fought it, Sam. That's more than most have done. Maybe it really just wasn't meant to be. But at least we tried, right?"

He doesn't answer her. He wishes she never opened her mouth. What good is fighting when you end up right back where you started? But as he looks at her bitter-sweet smile and listens to her humming along to the radio, he knows that's not true. Only he is at the beginning. She has found peace in the end.

They are six miles away from Washington and they don't speak for the rest of the journey.

* * *

A battered sign welcomes them home but there is nothing familiar about this place. He would have once been happy to spend the rest of his life in La Push, but now it feels too small. Too..safe. He has seen what the world has to offer. Fun, freedom and tears. And that deep, hollow ache in your gut that tells you you're feeling _something. _Leah is quiet beside him, elbow resting on the door. Her chin is propped on her hand and she is staring past the trees and the houses. He wants to ask her what she's thinking about but he can't bring himself to say the words. Things have gone rotten. The easy silence that had developed between them has turned awkward.

They pull up outside her house. There is not a sound for miles, only birds in trees and the low hum of the car engine.

She sits up and rolls her shoulders with a sigh. "Well, this is me. I'd invite you in but my mom probably wants to kill you."

He laughs at that, though laughing is the last thing he feels like doing. Her feet crunch on the gravel and she slams the door with a thud. The sun is blazing upon her, casting her in a warm glow but she doesn't look young and innocent anymore. She looks strong and wild, and serene. She tosses her rucksack over her shoulder.

"I'll see you around."

There's a lump in his throat because he knows what this is. It's the ending denied them by fate. They are parting and there is plenty of sorrow, but nothing sweet about it. Maybe she'll call him, talk to him when she bumps into him on the street, but over time, he'll fade away. She'll have all the fun and the pain and the triumphs with someone else until he's nothing but a memory. All the feelings they've collected and all the images they've created will be dulled by time and absence until the only thing left is the shell of their happily ever after.

The realisation is a lead weight in his stomach but he can't cry and he can't break down. He wants to but that comfort doesn't come to him. He's tired, and weary, and so much older in so many ways.

He sits in his car for a few minutes after she disappears into the house. He isn't ready to leave yet. He isn't ready to go back. Closing his eyes, he savours every last moment spent with her. Every smile and every tear. If it was up to him, he would spend his life crying and laughing with her but it isn't and it never has been.

With one last, solemn smile for what has been and what will never be again, he turns the key in the ignition. It's time he returned. To his life, and his destiny.

* * *


	13. Chapter Twelve: An Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am not making any money off this story.

**A/N:** So here it is...**the end**. It's been one long, painful ride. (and this is the longest chapter of all, but it really needed to be.) so thanks for sticking with me and huuuge thanks for all your encouragement. Hope you like it.

**Chapter Twelve: An Epilogue**

The sun is just beginning to set by the time he gets home. Emily envelopes him in a hug on sight. It is all so familiar, her face, their home, and he lets out a breath he feels he's been holding forever. He feels guilty for what he's put her through and he wishes she would be angry with him, but anger and holding grudges has never been in Emily's nature. She simply hugs him and promises they'll work it out. She wants to bake him his favourite muffins before he manages to talk her out of it. It's nearing nightfall and he hasn't had a real sleep in over a month.

Sleep doesn't come as easy as he expects, and when he does finally fall, it's anything but restful. His mind is too busy whirling with thoughts, with relief, with hurt. He feels safe here and he's beginning to wonder why he ever left.

The next morning is a bustle of activity. His mother and his pack take equal parts in welcoming him home and yelling at him. Emily is busy baking because no ill can't be cured by a batch of good muffins. They are still making their way through the pancakes. He can't place why, but he has a feeling that the day is going to suck.

* * *

"I thought we could talk about the wedding."

Emily's voice is almost as surprising as her words. Everybody left hours ago and there has been only silence between them since.

"We should set a date. I mean, maybe that's what caused all this, all the waiting around" She still can't state the truth, preferring to attribute his actions to stress instead of a real love for her cousin.

"It doesn't have to be anything big." The confidence and security in her eyes pisses him off. She's fully expecting him to give in and he can't even blame her for it, because he's never said no. There's never been anything she wanted that he didn't give.

He shakes his head, slowly."I can't---I don't think---"

She finally snaps. Her hand whips out, knocking her favourite vase to the floor. She's on her feet, pacing the room, and her hands are grasping at her hair.

"Why not, Sam? Do you even have an answer, a real answer? You disappear with my cousin and you still can't tell me why."

He can tell her why but he wont because he doesn't want to hurt her. He loved Leah, he wanted Leah. He needed to fight for Leah.

Her hands slam onto the table and her face is but a few inches from his. "Why?" All her fury has gone and her expression and tone are both desperate and pleading. He can't speak. He tries to force words out, any words, but his mouth just opens and closes.

"Goddamn it, Sam. Why won't you marry me?"

A million thoughts are swarming his head and he can't pick one out through the din. He has to have a reason, there has to be one reason, and then the light bulb goes off.

"Because I don't want to."

The look on her face is nothing short of shock and horror but he can't stop the smile from spreading across his face. She drops into the seat opposite him and tears start steadily down her face. He feels like he has just discovered the true meaning of the universe.

"I'm sorry, Em. I really am, and I wish you were never dragged into all this but I—-this, it isn't me. It's not what I want."

She sobs, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. "I don't understand. What's changed? We belong together, we're made for each other." He takes her hands because he still doesn't like to see her hurting.

"We are, but I feel like there's another person underneath it all. Like the real me has been buried and I'm not ready to give up on him."

She pulls away from him, angrily. "Don't give me that bullshit. Why don't you just be honest? This is about Leah. It's always been about Leah. You want her back. You don't want me anymore." He holds her as she collapses against him, sobbing.

He doesn't tell her that she's wrong. For the first time since the imprint, he's realised that it's never been about Leah, and it's never been about Emily. It's about Sam and all the things he has lost. He's not fighting for Leah anymore. He's fighting for _him_.

"I don't know what I want anymore," he says, more to himself than Emily. "I'm not the same person I was and neither is Leah. Everything is different now." But nothing he says, can comfort her.

They speak for hours. Going round in circles and trying to make each other listen. With every word, he feels the world opening up before him. He wants to eat ice cream at midnight, he wants to ride the roller-coaster with his girl laughing at his side but Emily doesn't want him to get sick and Emily doesn't like high rides. He wants to have the biggest argument so they can make up in the best way but Emily would never hurt his feelings like that. The werewolf accepts her conditions because it makes her happy, but the man in him won't settle for anything less than the things he had.

"Please, Sam. Don't leave me. Please...we can work things out. We can make things better if we just try. Please stay with me."

He feels like the lowest of the low. He's breaking her, just like he broke Leah but he knows there is a difference. He leaves, because this time he wants to.

* * *

The sun is setting when he gets to the Clearwaters. Sue looks about ready to rip his head off when she answers the door so, Leah drags him onto the dirt path at the front of the house. She's drawing circles in the dirt with her foot and she won't meet his eyes.

"I've left Emily." Her foots stops and she looks up slowly. Her expression is a combination of shock and guilt and happiness...and hope.

"You were right, everything you said in New Orleans .This was never what I wanted."

She's still frozen, speechless. It worries him that she hasn't said anything. He starts pacing, desperate to tell her everything without knowing what he wants to say. "I love you, Leah. I want to be with you. But I can't make things they way they were before. I can't go back in time and change what happened."

She nods softly and he knows he's made a mistake. He's got it wrong somehow. There is no happiness or understanding on her face, she looks sad and defeated. He grabs her hands, her face, he runs his fingers through her hair. "We can't go back to the way things were but we can try again, right? I'm not the Sam I used to be and you're nothing like my Lee Lee, but we can still love each other, right?" he adds, desperately.

"What are you saying?" she asks, a note of confusion in her voice.

"I love you. I want to be with you and nobody else. There's nobody else for me. It's you. It's always been you"

It's the moment she's been waiting for since he turned up, wearing his green shirt, and bought her whole world down around her ears. He can see this by the relief and pure emotion that floods her features but she doesn't leap into his arms or burst into tears. She smiles, slow, shy and teasing, like she did when he first asked her to go out with him.

It's gonna be a good day after all.

* * *


End file.
